


carry on, try to bear the agony

by Megeara



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Keldar, Gen or Pre-Slash, Insomniac Ivar Evil-Eye, M/M, Mention of Wild Hunt, Nonbinary Keldar, Old Witchers (The Witcher), Panic Attacks, Sapiosexual Ivar Evil-Eye, The Witcher Lore, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), i am my own beta, not relevant but just so you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28502310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megeara/pseuds/Megeara
Summary: “I can never catch them.”Ivar looks tired as he says this. There are dark shades under his eyes that signal countless sleepless nights and Keldar wonders how they didn’t notice them sooner.“Always a step behind.”Or: the fic where Ivar has a Wild Hunt vision induced panic attack, and Keldar is doing their best
Relationships: Ivar Evil Eye/Keldar, Ivar Evil-Eye & Keldar
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9
Collections: The Faded Texts





	carry on, try to bear the agony

**Author's Note:**

> Keldar is the archivist and teacher of the School of the Griffin.  
> Ivar Evil-Eye is the founder of the School of the Viper, who was put through multiple trials that ended with one of his eye mutating even further, giving him the ability to glance into other planes and follow the movements of the Wild Hunt.

Keldar wakes to the sound of heavy breathing and someone hitting the floor. They instinctively roll to their feet, the golden glow of their Quen falling away quickly as they spy the witcher covering in the corner between the wall and bed.

Ivar’s thin face is covered with a sheen of sweat, drops rolling down his cheek, following the path of the scar running from temple to mouth. His hair sticks up in a mess as Ivar runs a hand through it, gripping the handful so tight that Keldar winces in sympathy. The pupil of his witcher eye is razor-thin when he meets the Griffin’s concerned look.

“Shit,” Ivar hisses through clenched teeth.

In a sudden flurry of motion, Ivar uncoils and shoots for the door. His sleeping shirt slips from one shoulder and he doesn’t bother putting on shoes. Keldar follows in his steps. They’ve never seen Ivar in such a state before, the Viper always composed if impatient and quick to anger.

They take the stairs up one of the towers, where Keldar knows Ivar’s office is located. When they finally burst in, Keldar has to take a second to take everything in.

The office is a mess. The walls are covered with sheets of parchment, charcoal pictures depicting figures in black, skeletal armour. One wall is dedicated to drawings of people - humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, even creatures like succubi. But what takes up the most room is a huge rectangular table in the middle, which is covered in the most detailed map Keldar has ever seen. Little painted needles stick out of it, marking places in a fashion that at first glance doesn’t make sense. Their fingers tingle with the need to touch and learn, but Ivar needs them.

The Viper circles the table and sticks a red-tipped needle into it. When Keldar looks closer, he can read the location; Claywich in Temeria.

Ivar curses up a storm in his search for charcoal and clean paper. He scratches at the patch of scaled skin on the back of his neck in agitation.

“They’re here again,” he seems to be lost in his head, eyes switching from drawing to notes to the map. His tenor slips into the higher registers. “A male gnome, wild black curls, glasses on his nose, possibly shortsighted.” As he lists these, his hands practically fly on the paper. His far-away eyes are fixed to a point in the air, not comprehending anything around him. “Not particularly muscular. He would be absolutely useless to them. What’s their game? Where’s the pattern?”

Keldar crouches in front of the Viper. “Slow down, Ivar. What happened?”

“The Wild Hunt,” Ivar spits. His chest heaves with too shallow breaths. “They crossed the Spiral again and took a gnome with them. A total of four riders, not including the navigator.”

He finishes the drawing without even looking at it, and jots down the date in the corner. It ends up on the wall with the other portraits.

Keldar carefully pulls the Viper’s shirt up his shoulder. Ivar leans into the contact slightly. Seeing as their touch wasn’t rebuffed, Keldar slips careful fingers into his hair, gently untangling the knots they find and tucking it behind mangled ears.

“I can never catch them.”

Ivar looks tired as he says this. There are dark shades under his eyes that signal countless sleepless nights and Keldar wonders how they didn’t notice them sooner.

“Always a step behind.”

“You need someone who can make portals,” Keldar murmurs, knowing the immediate rebuttal already.

“Don’t trust mages.” Venom seeps through the words. Ivar touches the scars above his mutated gecko eye and Keldar’s heart aches with the gesture.

“Then make our own,” they suggest. And it’s ludicrous - witchers are not capable of handling this kind of magic, but the Griffin’s mind is already whirling a mile a minute.

For the first time since he woke up, Ivar snaps into the present. The intensity of his wild-eyed stare makes Keldar want to shuffle in place. “What do you mean?”

“You told me how one of your own, Warritt, managed to alter a Sign so he can see once again. Something that was never once replicated.” Keldar gestures to themselves. “And I happen to be the librarian of the vastest collection on magic witcherkind has ever seen. Between the two of us, I think we can break Ban Ard in half.”

Ivar’s eyes are glued to them in awe, mouth hanging slightly open. He quickly closes it. With a soft sigh, he tips forward to rest his forehead on Keldar’s shoulder. Strands of hair tickle Keldar’s face. “You brilliant man.”

The Griffin’s hands awkwardly hover over his back, then they pat his back twice, lightly scratching at Ivar’s exposed scales. “Don’t mention it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the lyrics of "Nobody's Hero" from Rush (inspired by Lohrendrell).
> 
> I have a lot of feelings about the Old Generation of Witchers. They are so untapped by fandom, I just want to give them a hug.  
> The focus here was definitely on Ivar. He's a betraying Witcher; an ex-Bear who almost killed Arnaghad (founder of the Bears) when he decided to split from them. His extra-mutation-induced visions drive him in desperation, trying to catch an evil that nobody else attempted to stop before, and he's always late. That kind of weight - seeing people get killed, or worse, enslaved - can break a lesser man. And I feel like Keldar could give Ivar the kind of support that he needs.
> 
> Kudos and comments, as always, deeply appreciated.  
> Find me on tumblr as Hungarianbee


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